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Cheyenne is a former rock star.
At 50 he still dresses “Goth” and lives in Dublin off his royalties.
The death of his father, with whom he wasn’t on speaking terms, brings him back to New York.
He discovers his father had an obsession: to seek revenge for a humiliation he had suffered.
Cheyenne decides to pick up where his father left off, and starts a journey, at his own pace, across America. [Synopsis courtesy of the Cannes Film Festival]

When you’re over fifty, it becomes increasingly difficult to be an up-and-coming director. Gianni Dubois knows this only too well. He hasn’t made a film for years, and now that he has the chance to direct a young TV star he can’t even think up an idea for a story. As if this wasn’t enough, a leak in his apartment in Tuscany has ruined the 16th-century fresco in the chapel next door. To avoid being sued and publicly shamed, Gianni must accept the bizarre proposal of the town major to direct the Good Friday celebrations in exchange for immunity. And so he finds himself spending a week in deepest Tuscany trying to put together a kind of Stations of the Cross, with the apostles, Pontius Pilate, the crucifixion, and a terrible and incredibly vain local actor in the part of Christ. [Synopsis courtesy of VIFF]

Aristocratic ladies, social climbers, politicians, high-flying criminals, journalists, actors, decadent nobles, prelates, artists and intellectuals – whether authentic or presumed – form the tissue of these flaky relationships, all engulfed in a desperate Babylon which plays out in the antique palaces, immense villas and most beautiful terraces in the city? They are all there, and they are not seen in a good light? Jep Gambardella, 65, indolent and disenchanted, his eyes permanently imbued with gin and tonic, watches this parade of hollow, doomed, powerful yet depressed humanity. A moral lifelessness enough to make one’s head spin? And in the background, Rome in summer. Splendid and indifferent, like a dead diva?